


Sigasenna - The Contending of Sigyn.

by SeithSpinner



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bamf!Sigyn, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Movie Spoilers, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeithSpinner/pseuds/SeithSpinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have done to me a great hurt, Odin King.” It was calm, the voice, silken, and more deadly than a viper.  “Where once I stood in the soft garments of one who had claim to the royal blood of Asgard as its wife – the proper garb of a princess - I stand now in the shattered armor of a wife in mourning, for you took my husband from me and though you tell me he lives still you tell me also that I am barred from the sight of him until his dying day, and should your edict stand I will not witness even his slow passage over the horizon. Odin Allfather, you have made a widow of me, and I will have my grief assuaged by recompense.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sigasenna - The Contending of Sigyn.

The first time, it had been politely worded – an audience with the king.

The second time, it had been stern – an audience will be granted.

The third, fourth, fifth and on beyond count it became a demand, and even a plea, but no reply came. And so her actions became drastic.

She stood like a tower of stone, draped in long panels of leather and silk from head to toe; Crowned in golden horns and shattered armor, cutting an impressive figure.  At one shoulder was a cracked pauldron which had been crudely bound together with welded links of spiked chain, featuring the face of a monstrous _ulfr_ , and beneath it another was marred beyond recognition as if by acid. Her wrists held gouged motifs of serpents and horses, one missing nearly all of what had once been beyond its thick, bracing, band.  The missing portion had been finished out by beaten chain and a slim, silver, dagger.

“Why come you before my throne so armed?” Allfather spat, and he was greeted by silence and a defiant glare. Someone leaned over, whispering small words to the King before he sighed heavily and added. “Sigyn Shieldbreaker, I recognize you before my throne, speak your peace or be gone.”  

“You have done to me a great hurt, Odin King.” It was calm, the voice, silken, and more deadly than a viper.  “Where once I stood in the soft garments of one who had claim to the royal blood of Asgard as its wife – the proper garb of a princess - I stand now in the shattered armor of a wife in mourning, for you took my husband from me and though you tell me he lives still you tell me also that I am barred from the sight of him until his dying day, and should your edict stand I will not witness even his slow passage over the horizon. Odin Allfather, you have made a _widow_ of me, and I will have my grief assuaged by recompense.”

The collective sound of the court was one of astonishment. Beneath it burbled tones of disgust, of disbelief, and of hatred. A few tittering laughs floated above, mocking and accusing.  In the death of the din one voice stood out clearly, saved so that it would be heard. “To think that she loves such a monster.” Sif had said, smiling a wicked smile to the Prince. The quiet baritone reply had clearly shamed her, and so Sigyn held her tongue.  Gungir’s butt rapped sharply on the tiles, and all of Asgard rumbled for it.

“You would ask recompense for loss of a husband who murdered innocents beyond count?” He spat. “Recompense for loss of one who committed treason, who set the destroyer upon his own brother beneath the innocent and unknowing gaze of Midgard, and later returned to try and rule above them?”

“Are we to expect aught else from a Frost Giant? From the rightful King of all Jotunheim, as my husband slayed Laufrey – his blood father – with his own hands, and would inherit it by their law even if he laid no other claim. He has committed no act that you have not, and if one act more than you, then far less than those acts by Borr, your father.” She took a deep, measured, breath in absolute silence. “Remember well that Midgard speaks of you as God, not King.  And on that matter, that they tell stories even now of the cruelty you mete out against my husband – tales of you sewing his lips shut and setting his children upon one-another, and behold! He is bound beneath in chains with venom in his eyes. “  No ear in attendance failed to hear the subtlety of Loki in his wife’s words.

“Guard your tongue.” Was the only response the King uttered, his jaw tight as a vice.

“I have held my tongue for centuries. I held my tongue as you would shout down one son while praising the other. I held my tongue as the idiot companions of your true son would call my husband woman – as though woman were an insult. Would call his war-art trickery and mischief, would call him liar and deceiver when he told only truths they sought to conceal. No. I will not guard a tongue that has been fettered for too long. You will either hear my grievance, in the manner of the law of Asgard, or I will have satisfaction in the way my people seek it.”

Odin was on his feet before the echo of her words was done, taking two steps of the throne in one surge, brandishing his spear, though she had not moved an inch. “You threaten your king?”

She smiled, then. It was a full, lush, even friendly smile, except that it did not reach her eyes. “I do not.” One could nearly hear the false tone of disbelief “ _My_ king is chained and fettered in your dungeons. I do not, in like kind, threaten Asgard’s king, for I should think that if it came to combat the Shieldbreaker would make no match for the Allfather. Should you think me a threat, I should think myself flattered.”

One laugh rose, for all the court knew Sigyn, who would sit upon the feast-hall floor, teaching children to spin, weave and play games.  Many more knew her skill at _scalding_ , black poetry of such venom and viciousness that none dared anger her in fear of the lashing they would later receive when too-much mead had flowed. She was never ill-favored for the sharpness of her tongue, for it always had a laugh to follow and the open admission when she had (on rare occasion) been truly bested.

“Sigyn…” Thor began; he held his palm out, as though he would press it to her armor, as he had done for his brother so often. “You are my sister, still. I know the mad-red of battle; clear it from your sight before you are lost.”

“What choice am I given? I seek the rightful place of any woman in this court – to air grievance against one who has taken her husband from her, and instead I am mocked! _He_ is mocked! How many times have I asked, requested, and then begged for your audience? And yet not have it granted until I cannot be ignored.” She gestured toward the gathered court “When _else_ would this have been allowed to stand? When else would a wife and noble come before you and be _mocked for her pain_? Why does reason flee and cruel madness reign when my husband’s name is spoken? My right is taken from me and this will not stand. I would fall upon that spear in blood and bile for less a righteous mission.”  

The low murmur said as much as her words and Odin seated himself at it. “I will hear you, if you will but … temper your vitriol?”

“I will not be denied my husband. If you will not release him, you will not deny me the sight or touch of him whenever I desire it.  I will not be observed, nor escorted, nor censured, nor given _appointments_. This is a thing not done, and should not be done now.  For I am, in every law we hold, a Queen and will not be denied giving my husband his heirs.” She did not flinch at the jeers, or the laughter. “And should you seek to bar me from him further; my wrath will drown this kingdom. This will not stand.”

The laughter stopped.

 


End file.
